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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747320">(Striketober2020) Seeing the Doctor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrogateBelmont/pseuds/HarrogateBelmont'>HarrogateBelmont</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, GuessItsaCrossover, London</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:41:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrogateBelmont/pseuds/HarrogateBelmont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What started as an attempt at Striketober has turned into a Ninth Doctor/Strike crossover. I'm attempting to turn the prompts into an actual story - wish me luck!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robin Ellacott &amp; Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "Is that even possible?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know if I will manage all the prompts. But I'll follow LulaIsAKitten's model and try for one chapter of drabble a day. I'm looking forward to this opportunity to get into a regular writing practice!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You sure that’s not shorthand?” Strike asked Pat, staring at the piece of paper in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wrote it in plain English. Exactly as the person told me over the telephone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. Pat gave a snort. “Just let me know if you’re going to call him back,” she said. “Or if you want me to make excuses. Might be quicker for you to talk to this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Strike headed for the inner office.  “I’ll discuss it with Robin when she gets in. See what she thinks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike didn’t have to wait long. He heard Robin enter the office with a breezy “Morning” to Pat, and after a few minutes of light chatter, she joined him at the large desk that they shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pat said a potential new client called yesterday after you left,” said Robin, by way of greeting. “She was acting… mysterious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should call him,” said Strike. “Hear him out at least. Maybe he’s not as crazy as he sounds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin narrowed her eyes. “What, exactly, does this case entail?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike cleared his throat. “Time travel,” he said, leaning forward on his desk and folding his hands together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” said Robin, obviously repressing an urge to laugh, but only barely. “It does sound fascinating. If we solved this one, we would never have to worry about the business again. But... is that even possible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno,” said Strike. “Our last case involved Astrology, and we thought that was bollocks, so why not branch out?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "Want some company?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin is doing surveillance in a pub, and has an unexpected conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have to thank <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites">BlueRobinWrites</a> for the inspiration for this chapter. I have no idea where this is going. I don't even like reading crossover fic, but here I am writing it! The Ninth Doctor was actually my favorite, and Christopher Eccleston is what got me watching in the first place. (I stopped somewhere mid-Eleventh Doctor and gave up). So... thank you, and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin was bored. She had been sitting in the Captain Kidd in Wapping, ostensibly looking at the Thames out the window and reading her book, while surreptitiously observing the stocky bartender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was still surprised that Strike had been the one who had convinced her that they should take this job. Their client had sounded like someone writing a particularly bad science fiction novel, and also like someone who was not of sound mind. But Strike had asked how many of their clients really could be considered stable, when the people who usually wanted to hire private detectives were motivated by fear, paranoia, and extreme stress.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Robin had agreed, but so far, they had not mentioned to the other employees what they were doing. Only Pat was aware that they had taken on a new client, having successfully filed the signed contract and deposited the client’s first advanced payment, assuring them that it had cleared before they began their work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having finished her first cup of tea, she returned to the bar, and waited for the bartender to notice her. She could certainly understand why this particular man had captured the imagination of their client. It would have been difficult to discern whether a black and white photograph of him was from this century or two-hundred years earlier. He sported a thick mustache, handlebar sideburns, and a thick head of hair that was neither very short nor very long, but neatly brushed to the side. His stocky forearms were devoid of the tattoos and jewelry that Robin had come to expect more often than not. He was wearing suspenders, but Robin assumed this was a hipster affectation and not a utilitarian dress choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another cup of tea?” the bartender asked her in a jovial tone, making a show of wiping down the counter in front of her and whisking away the cup she had set down in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please. And a packet of crisps,” she added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crisps for the lady!” he said with a flourish, and then turned to deposit her money in the till. Robin carried her snacks back to her table. Her plan had been to try to hear some of the bartender’s conversations, and to perhaps see if she could follow him for a bit once his shift ended. Not knowing how long that would take, she sighed, and opened her book again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was startled moments later by the sound of a chair scraping in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want some company?” said a male voice. She heard a hint of a northern accent, and, wondering for a moment if this was someone she might know from home, she looked up and saw a tall, slender man with a crooked nose and a black leather jacket holding the chair across from her. Her first reaction was annoyance. One problem with pub surveillance was the constant threat of unwanted male attention. However, this man had such an unusual energy and Robin felt both a thrill and apprehension as she put down her book and nodded her consent. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've actually been to the Captain Kidd. Now that I've come out of the closet re: my fan fic to my husband, I am taking advantage of his excellent memory and superior knowledge of London to help me out. I was there in summer and sat outside, but I think it would be too unpleasant in October. It was an exciting visit - someone was rude to me and our local friend nearly got into an altercation in my defense. Fond memories!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. "It sounded better in my head."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin tries to bring Strike up to date on her encounter with the strange man.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Let me see if I understand,” said Strike, trying not to look too alarmed as Robin paced back and forth across the common area of her flat. She had called him on the short walk to the Tube, and asked him to meet her at home as soon as he could. She hadn’t sounded distraught, exactly, but the urgency in her voice had prompted Strike to rush and he had actually arrived at Earl’s Court station at the same time that she had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin had refused to tell him what she had uncovered until they were safely inside, and she had handed him a can of the Doom Bar that she now regularly stocked in her refrigerator, while uncharacteristically taking one for herself as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s bigger on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back up,” said Strike. “You went into an old-fashioned phone box, with a stranger who approached you while you were watching one of our suspects…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think it was dangerous,” said Robin. “I mean, it was in the middle of the pavement, and it’s not that big. He went in first and I stood behind him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me again what you saw inside?” Strike struggled to keep his voice neutral. But he was mentally calculating how he might surreptitiously get in touch with Nick and ask for his take on the situation. Maybe Robin had suffered a concussion? He was concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>“A… contraption.” </p>
<p>
  <span>“A contraption that was larger than this flat? Mirrors maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I mean, no mirrors, but yes, he walked so far away that I couldn’t touch him. Strike, listen. It sounded better in my head, but you have to trust me. Our client may not be crazy. And we need to go back to Wapping tonight. Together.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I... don't even know. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "Where does it hurt?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike humors Robin, but is surprised to learn that she might be telling the truth.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Strike and Robin stood on the pavement outside of Wapping Gardens, staring at a large blue police box that seemed both out of place and yet, unobtrusive in its location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was twilight, and they had already walked around it entirely several times, just to make sure that there wasn’t any sort of trap door or fake backdrop. Strike had tried to look underneath, bending in a way that was not easy with his leg, but the structure seemed to be sitting on solid ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, do we just knock?” he asked Robin, wondering for a moment if this could be some sort of elaborate prank. He was also starting to regret not just filing away their client’s message in the nutter drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin stepped up to the door and knocked loudly. They waited. “Maybe he’s out?” she suggested, looking at her watch. “He said he’d be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding to play along, Strike approached the door and banged on it roughly. Again no answer. Strike pounded one more time, and as his fist was millimetres from connecting with the door, it opened inward, causing Strike to lose his balance and fall forward, narrowly missing the agitated man who stood beside it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin rushed to crouch next to him. “Strike!” she said, helping him to roll over onto his side and sit up. He groaned. His prosthesis was twisted to the side in a way that would have been gruesome had the leg been real, but nonetheless, it hurt quite a bit. “Where does it hurt?” Robin asked, already rolling his trouser leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning forward to rub his knee, Strike now took in his surroundings, eyes wide, as he realized that this police box did, in fact, seem to be larger on the inside. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to everyone who is reading and encouraging me! I hope it will come together in some way, but mostly I am just enjoying participating in the challenge. I've had to brush up on my Ninth Doctor history - I'd forgotten so much, but it's coming back to me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. "Don't move."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike gets his first real look of the inside of the TARDIS.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t move,” said Robin. Strike had pulled off his leg and she bent over to examine the skin beneath it. </p><p>“I’ll bloody well move if I want to,” he said through gritted teeth, trying unsuccessfully to reach for the door that was now closed. There was a terrible noise, like a loud pump was moving all around them.</p><p>“Doctor?” said Robin. “Have you got any ice?”</p><p>“<em>He’s</em> a doctor?” Strike asked. </p><p>“I explained it to you at my flat. Not <em>that</em> kind of doctor. Stay there,” Robin said, standing and hurrying across the room to the console, where the Doctor was fiddling with buttons and gazing at the blue-green light shooting up to the ceiling. She repeated her question. “Have you got any ice?”</p><p>“No time for that,” said the Doctor, unconcerned, waving her away. </p><p>Robin stood for a moment, but seemed to realize that asking him again would have no effect. So she returned to Strike. “Can we put this back on for now so that you can get around?</p><p>“We’ll be traveling for a while,” said the Doctor. “I’ll explain everything again once I’m certain we’re headed in the right direction.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not a lot going on here. I’ve spent the weekend trying to plot things out and get ahead, and brushing up on Dr. Who logistics. So, this is a slow chapter, but the story will pick up again soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. "Is it working?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My apologies to anyone who is actually a Doctor Who expert.  All I could glean from my research is that the principles of time travel in the series seem to be arbitrary and there are a lot of exceptions that seem to be at the whim of the writers. So I hope that my lame excuse for why they can’t bring someone back in time using the TARDIS doesn’t totally pull you out of the story. I mean, he got Rose’s cell phone to call her mother from 5 billion years in the future, so my idea can’t be too crazy, right?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where, exactly, are we going?” Strike asked the “Doctor” from his spot on the floor. Having refused to stand and walk with Robin over to the center of this … room? Strike was stubbornly trying to maintain some sense of sanity.</p><p>“1908,” said the Doctor, who had abandoned his console, and was now pacing back and forth. </p><p>“Okay.” Strike was still seated on the floor, rubbing his knee, and trying to figure out how to confirm whether or not all of this was a dream. He looked at Robin, who was also pacing and looked not only sane, but nonplussed by this latest declaration.</p><p>“What I still don’t understand,” Robin said, turning to the Doctor, “Is why we can’t just follow him when he leaves work in our time, snatch him up, and take him back in the TARDIS? This plan seems too elaborate.”</p><p>“Time travel is elaborate,” said the Doctor. “He didn’t move forward in the TARDIS, so I can’t predict what effect it would have to take him back. We can’t risk it.” </p><p>“Who are we trying to catch?” Strike asked. “The hipster bartender from the Captain Kidd?”</p><p>Neither Robin nor the Doctor person answered him.</p><p>“You still think he intentionally fell into the time warp thingy?” asked Robin, furrowing her brow. "I'm starting to think it was an accident."</p><p>Strike had been using his good leg to inch towards the door. He thought that if he could reach it, he’d be able to pull himself up, open the door, and confirm that this was all hoax. Robin and the Doctor did not seem to notice, so engrossed they were in their planning. They seemed to know each other extremely well for two people who had only met in the afternoon. The Doctor’s accent was northern, perhaps Robin already knew this man? Had she lied to him earlier? He’d thought they were past that.</p><p>“It’s not so easy to just...” the Doctor waved his hands around, “fall into a time warp thingy. We need to figure out why it happened. You're right - his wife is expecting. He’s young. His whole life is in front of him. Why would he want to spend it in the future, tending bar in a pub down the street from where he worked 100 years previously?”</p><p>“I watched his wife for three days,” said Robin. “And she seemed perfectly happy.”</p><p>“You what?” Strike said. “No you haven’t. You were at mine last night, and then you went to work this morning. How have you been watching some woman for three days?”</p><p>Robin had the decency to look guilty. She started to walk towards him. “I didn’t tell you everything earlier,” she said. “This isn’t my first trip in the TARDIS. I’ve been helping the Doctor do surveillance for several days now. But we came back to the same day, to get you, because I told him that I couldn’t figure any of this out without you.” </p><p>It was now imperative that he take some sort of action. Strike was able to stand, and turn the latch on the door with ease. It did not appear to be locked. He wondered if he should try to grab Robin before he opened it, but he decided to test it first, just to make sure it would work. As the door swung inward towards him, he saw a dark void that looked nothing like the quiet road by the park on which they had entered. He stumbled back against the railing.</p><p>“Oi!” said the Doctor, turning his attention to Strike. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Trying to convince myself that this is all an illusion,” said Strike.</p><p>“Is it working?” asked the Doctor, and Strike had to admit that as absurd as this seemed, he was starting to understand that everything was very, very real. The door swung shut, and Robin put her arm around his waist to help him limp towards the center of the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. "Is something bothering you?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin ponders how to convince Strike that the Doctor is real.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m feeling pretty bad for Strike right now. But I’m also now imagining all sorts of other ways he could go back in time and solve mysteries, lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin felt terrible. The whole situation was so odd, and she realized now that Strike could not possibly understand that she had, in fact, already spent several days in the company of the Doctor without experiencing it himself. She had been as confused as he was in the beginning, and perhaps even more frightened, because Strike had not been with her. She had not told him the entire truth back at her flat. While she had stood by the door when she first entered the police box, before she had come to learn that it was called a “TARDIS,” she had then entered the space, mesmerized by what she had seen inside.</p>
<p>But Strike also had not believed even her sanitized version of the story, even though she had tried to explain it calmly and rationally. Now he was sitting slumped on a chair, arms crossed, looking out of sorts. The Doctor had disappeared into the depths of the TARDIS, so Robin sat next to Strike, and crossed her own arms. She wanted to make sure that he understood what they needed to accomplish on this trip, and she still wasn’t sure he was ready to fully listen.</p>
<p>“Is something bothering you?” Strike asked, and Robin couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry he wouldn’t let you smoke,” Robin said. </p>
<p>Strike grunted. “That proves this isn’t real,” he said. “There’s apparently a while universe with aliens and time travel and explosive rays emitting fuck knows what kind of radiation ten feet in front of us, but the smoke from one goddamn cigarette will somehow upset the equilibrium.”</p>
<p>“I just don’t fancy the smell,” said the Doctor. “Here,” he said, handing an ice pack to Strike, and leaning a walking stick against the seat. “How’d you lose your leg?” </p>
<p>“Afghanistan,” said Strike. “I was a soldier.”</p>
<p>Sadness flickered in the Doctor’s eyes. “So was I,” he said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. "I'm scared"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The TARDIS arrives at its destination.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh yeah?” said Strike, looking closely at the man standing in front of them. He was slim, but his hair was cropped and Strike could see a certain military bearing in his presence. Maybe the Doctor was suffering from PTSD. “Did you fight?”</p><p>“The Last Great Time War,” said the Doctor, his face serious. “My whole planet was destroyed. I’m the last. The last of the Time Lords.”</p><p>“Right, that’s it,” said Strike, attempting to stand, but at that moment the entire space around them gave a jerk, and they heard a thump.</p><p>The Doctor rubbed his hands together, and with a look of almost innocent excitement, he exclaimed, “We’re here!”</p><p>Robin held out her hand to Strike. “Do you think you can walk if you hold onto my arm?” she asked.</p><p>Happy that they were at least going to leave this place and get outside, Strike accepted her hand, and stood, gingerly putting weight on his bad leg. The Doctor handed him the walking stick, and with Robin’s help, he was able to limp towards the entrance. </p><p>The Doctor opened the doors, and peered out. “No one around,” he said. </p><p>Strike and Robin followed him outside. It was very dark, and very quiet. As they stepped away from the police box and into the open, Robin squeezed his arm and said, “Doing okay?”</p><p>“No. I’m scared. Scared out of my fucking mind,” said Strike, drily. “Where the hell are we?”</p><p>“Wapping Park,” said the Doctor. “Right where we started, except 107 years earlier.”</p><p>“Assuming I’m willing to believe all of this and go along,” said Strike, looking at Robin, “What, exactly, is the plan?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So fitting the prompt into this chapter was difficult and seems out of character to me, unless you read it as sarcasm, so that's what I was going for...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. "I have to do this"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin and the Doctor give Strike a little bit more information.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor crossed the street and stopped in front of a large church. He looked accusingly at Robin. “You said he’d be able to help?”</p><p>“He will!” said Robin. “But you have to understand that this isn’t exactly easy to grasp. I’m sorry if such an advanced being as yourself doesn’t have the patience to wait for us lowly humans to catch up…”</p><p>Running his palm over his cropped hair, the Doctor interrupted. “You’re right. I always forget. It’s been a long time.” He turned to address Strike, who, Robin noticed, was taking in his surroundings with the keen look in his eye that appeared when he was trying to understand a complicated case.</p><p>“We’ve traveled back in time. To 1908, to be precise. That bartender in the pub - his name is Seamus Dougherty.”</p><p>“I know,” said Strike, happy to finally be knowledgeable about something. “That’s why our client is convinced that it’s his great-grandfather. He’s got the same name. We told him it was likely just an odd coincidence, but he wasn’t having it, and he offered to pay, so….” He trailed off, not sure why he felt he had to justify their decision to take the case to this man.</p><p>The Doctor shook his head. “Your client’s telling the truth. Seamus was born in 1878. Somehow he’s managed to travel through time, and, in doing so, he’s seriously damaged the integrity of a fixed historical point, and his absence could change the future significantly. We’ve got to figure out how he managed it, and we’ve got to stop him from doing it.”</p><p>Robin picked up where the Doctor left off. “We know from our client that his great-grandfather was a bartender at the Town of Ramsgate pub. He thinks it’s odd that he’s taken up residence at the Captain Kidd now, instead of the Town of Ramsgate, remember? We questioned him on that and whether he was certain. He remembered his grandfather telling him stories about how his father used to take him to sit on the Wapping Old Stairs and talk about the 'good old days.'"</p><p>“I think,” said the Doctor, “that the time fissure is by the stairs. We might have to split up. One of us should go to Dougherty’s house, and another should go to the pub. And someone needs to watch the stairs.”</p><p>The Doctor looked at Strike expectantly. Strike glanced at Robin, who was nodding as if in agreement with the Doctor. Strike sighed.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to do this.” He reached back and punched the Doctor in the face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry, I had to do it. Because I couldn't think of anything else to tie into the prompt. I have rewritten this one about ten times, because I am pretty sure whatever I do, my time travel physics is all wrong. But maybe no one will notice?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. "Give me five minutes"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike finally agrees to just roll with it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>FWIW, in this story, I am assuming that Robin and Strike are now in a romantic relationship. How that happened I’ll leave up to your imaginations. I've been re-watching some Ninth Doctor and it does seem to me that he does not have the best relationships with male humans at times, so I feel reassured that the punch, and the Doctor's reaction are both somewhat true-to-canon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Strike!” yelled Robin, dropping his arm and running to the Doctor’s side. “That was unnecessary.” </p><p>“He’s a nutter, Robin!” said Strike, rubbing his fist. At least it had hurt, and it felt real. “You can’t tell me you’re believing all of this?”</p><p>The Doctor did not seem to be injured, but was shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. “All good,” he said in a cheery voice. “Can we go now? Have you let off enough steam? Because we really need to figure out where this fissure is before Seamus falls through it and we have less than 24 hours to do it.” </p><p>Robin held up a finger. “Just… give me five minutes, okay? I’ll see what I can do.” She turned to Strike, and then looked over her shoulder and cleared her throat at the Doctor.</p><p>“Right,” he said. “I’ll, uh, just wait over there.” He strolled off around the corner of the church.</p><p>Strike slumped against the wall. “This isn’t a dream,” he said. “I thought I’d seen it all.” </p><p>Robin put her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I wish my dreams were this exciting. Usually my most elaborate dreams are centered around the fact that I have to have a pee and can’t wake up.”</p><p>Strike laughed. Robin hugged him tight. “You’re going to have to accept that you can’t be in control of everything. You and I are going to have the adventure of a lifetime.” </p><p>Robin could feel some of the tension leave him, and he reached around to hug her. “All right,” he said. “I’ll play along. But remind me not to drink so much liquid before bedtime.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. "Is everything okay?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike, Robin, and the Doctor begin to develop a plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting. I appreciate it! I'm starting to catch up to where I have written, which is scaring me a little - I've been spending too much time reading up on things like "Were gas lamps still in use in 1908..." and too little time actually writing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin and Strike turned the corner to find the Doctor staring moodily at a cemetery across from the church. The dim glow from a nearby gas lamp made everything feel quiet and far away.</p>
<p>“Is everything okay?” Robin asked. </p>
<p>The Doctor snapped out of his meditation and turned to them. “I should ask you that,” he said. </p>
<p>“Fine,” said Strike. “I’m in, and I’ll help however I can. But we stay together. And if anyone gets separated, we meet back at the blue box.”</p>
<p>“It’s called the TARDIS,” said the Doctor.</p>
<p>Strike sighed. Robin nudged him with her elbow. </p>
<p>“Robin’s already watched Dougherty’s wife for three nights and hasn’t noticed anything unusual. He goes to work, comes home, sleeps late, and goes to work again. Not sure what you were doing? Were you watching him?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said the Doctor defensively. “That. And… fixing the TARDIS. It got a little banged up on our last trip here.”</p>
<p>Strike could feel his blood pressure rising, but fought to make his voice calm.</p>
<p>“So we have no idea what Dougherty might be doing between the time he finishes work and when he comes home?”</p>
<p>“We have an idea,” said the Doctor. “I managed to follow him home. I just didn’t spend much time watching him in the pub.” </p>
<p>Whoever this Doctor was, he certainly wasn’t trained as an investigator. “Did you look at the stairs?” Strike asked, in a tone that he hoped conveyed that this might have been the most obvious place to start.</p>
<p>“You said you looked,” said Robin.</p>
<p>The Doctor looked guilty. “Well, I looked in the daytime, but I couldn’t get very far - the tide was up and covered them. I meant to go back, but that’s when you suggested coming back for <em>him</em>.”</p>
<p>Strike took a moment to think. He had no idea what kind of unusual behavior they might be seeking. How did people act when they were preparing to escape through time? He had no idea. Finally, he said, “I say that we spend tonight exploring the pub and the stairs. See if we can observe anything fishy.” </p>
<p>“Good plan,” said the Doctor. “I’m thirsty.” He started to walk down the street.</p>
<p>“Wait!” said Strike. He still felt unprepared. “Do we have to know anything special? Do we need disguises?” He supposed that his own clothing might not seem out-of-place in Edwardian London - his large overcoat covered most of him anyway. But Robin was wearing jeans and a bulky puffer jacket. </p>
<p>“I forgot,” said Robin. “Last time, when I was watching Dougherty’s wife, I grabbed a dress from the wardrobe in the TARDIS. If we’re going to be trying to infiltrate the pub tonight, I’d be better off trying to pass for a bloke.” </p>
<p>“Well, let’s be quick,” said the Doctor, turning to move towards the TARDIS again. Then he paused, and, looking at Strike, asked with a grin. “Now that you believe us, how does it feel to be in the past?”</p>
<p>“Dark,” Strike grunted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Doctor Who is also really inconsistent about period outfits. The Doctor never seems to need to change his clothes - I'm assuming that whatever the TARDIS does to translate language also affects clothing as well? That said, he MADE Rose change into a Victorian outfit. Was it necessary or did he just want to see her in a dress?   Is his clothing covered in a psychic filter? I don't know. But there is a wardrobe room on the TARDIS so I figured we might as well use it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. "Don't flatter yourself"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin and Strike explore the wardrobe room on the TARDIS.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike was longing for a cigarette, and considered waiting outside while Robin searched through the wardrobe room for an appropriate outfit, but he hated the idea of splitting up, and he especially disliked thinking of her alone in the TARDIS-thing with the Doctor, whom he still did not entirely trust.</p><p>The Doctor unlocked the door and they entered. Robin led Strike to the wardrobe room, which, like the rest of the TARDIS, was larger than he expected. It contained what seemed like several floors containing rows and rows of colorful outfits, some of which were quite familiar and others that looked like science fiction costumes. Robin knew exactly where to go and led him to one section that contained an abundance of rough-looking men and women’s clothing in drab colors. </p><p>Robin pulled a plain dress with a frilly apron attached to it, off the rack, and held it up to herself. “I wore this last time,” she said, swishing the apron back and forth. “What do you think?” </p><p>“I’d say it covers too much, but I suppose it’s appropriate for the situation,” he said. He started rifling through the clothing. There was a large tuxedo with tails, and a top hat that looked like it might fit him. He popped the hat on his head, stuck out his walking stick in a way that he thought might be jaunty, and winked. “Can you resist me?” he asked.</p><p>Robin rolled her eyes, but gave him a quick kiss before placing the dress back with the others. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “And if you take anything, make it one of these wool caps, perhaps? Now, I really need to find a bulky man’s outfit.”</p><p>Finally, she settled on a pair of baggy overalls, with a large coat that buttoned above her breast, helping to hide her shape even more. Parting her hair to the side, she pulled a tie out of the pocket of her puffer coat and made a sort of twist, which she tucked under a wool cap. She patted herself down, and smiled up at him. “What do you think?”</p><p>“You look like you’re ready to audition for Bananarama,” he said. “But if this is really 1908, I suppose no one else will think that. It’s dark out, I think it will work.”</p><p>“And you can still call me ‘Robin,’” she said. “So one-less thing to remember.” She held out her hand and they returned upstairs to tell the Doctor they were ready to go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If I were able to write convincing smut, I think it might happen here....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. "Who told you that?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin, Strike, and the Doctor, set out to examine the Wapping Old Stairs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this is the kind of chapter that terrifies me, and makes me realize that I may never branch out beyond fan fiction. I had to give up researching “Edwardian London” and just start to make things up. I don’t want to get historical details wrong. Did it smell by the river? Was it noisy? Or quiet? No one will know if I am correct unless they can also time travel, but I really want to get these details right. Luckily, I am able to let it go, a little bit, for these short chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the street, the Town of Ramsgate pub did not look much different in 1908 than it did in the 21st century. It was difficult to tell with the lighting and it was also very crowded. If Strike had doubted the authenticity of their journey up to this point, the smell, and the crowds of people dressed in unusual clothing seemed proof to him that he was experiencing something tangible. Either that, or this was a movie set. But no one seemed to notice them as they walked, slowly, along the Wapping High Street. Strike was limping, and both Robin and the Doctor slowed their pace to his.</p><p>Strike was surprised by the noise. With the river so close, people crowding the street, and the occasional horse, it seemed almost louder than it did in contemporary London. He had decided to approach this experience as though he were traveling to a different country. His time in the army had certainly given him experience in learning about new places and cultures. But these surroundings were so oddly familiar - as if a filter had been applied to everything, and he found it more unnerving than he had the first time he had set foot in Afghanistan.</p><p>“Shall we grab a drink?” asked the Doctor, but Robin shook her head. “I think we should look at the stairs first. The river’s low and we should be able to go all the way down. And we should make sure we know where all the entrances, exits, and hiding places are before we go in.”</p><p>“Good thinking,” said Strike. </p><p>The narrow alley that ran alongside the pub was quieter, and very dark. No street lamps illuminated the area, although some of the dim light escaping from the pub’s windows meant that they could still see. Strike heard a “click” and tensed, but saw that the Doctor had pulled what looked like a small torch out of his pocket. </p><p>“Won’t that confuse people if they see it?” Strike asked. He was still a little put out that the Doctor had not seemed to find it necessary to don any sort of disguise. “Surely battery-powered torches haven’t been invented yet.” </p><p>“Ah, but it’s not a battery-powered torch,” said the Doctor. “It’s a sonic screwdriver!”  </p><p>“Of course,” said Strike. “And I’m assuming it can also pick locks, brew beer, and shoot darts if we need it to?”</p><p>“Who told you that?” asked the Doctor, holding the screwdriver up to his face and looking puzzled. “How would a screwdriver brew beer? Ah, don’t take another step.” </p><p>They halted abruptly. No barriers or other warnings announced the beginning of the steps, and Strike assumed that anyone who had cause to be here in the dark must already be familiar with the surroundings. There was a double staircase with about thirty narrow and slippery-looking stairs leading from the alley directly to a small platform that would likely be covered by the Thames during high-tide.</p><p>He turned to Robin. “You and he'll have to go without me. No way I’m making it down there.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>FWIW, I picked this particular date/era to travel back to, because I've been doing some family research the past few years, and I had a distant relative who immigrated to London around this time. He had a super interesting life that I know about after he came to the US in the 1910s, but I have no idea what his life was like in England. I seriously doubt he was a bartender, so that is where the connection ends, but I wanted to know more about the time period.  :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. "What are you smiling about?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor and Robin investigate the stairs.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike leaned against the stone wall that was supporting the stairs on one side, and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. The Doctor was already halfway down the steps, and Robin followed, leaning on the wall for support as she descended. </p>
<p>The dock at the bottom of the stairs was damp and a sea of stones and garbage extended out beyond the platform on which they stood. Despite her many layers of wool clothing, Robin shivered. There was a very slight breeze and in the quiet at the bottom of the stairs, she suddenly felt isolated. Turning to look back up to the street level, she could see the flash of light from Strike’s cigarette, and a comforting cloud of smoke as he exhaled. </p>
<p>Robin stepped closer to the edge. The Doctor was leaning over the platform, his head inclined, as if listening to the rocks. Then he fiddled with the screwdriver - Robin had learned not to ask what he was doing, knowing she’d likely not understand - and waved it across the refuse and mud.</p>
<p>The night was so dark that Robin could not clearly see anything on the river. There could have been a boat twenty feet from them and she would not have noticed. Trying to draw on her other senses, she could neither hear nor smell anything unusual either.</p>
<p>Now crawling along the edge of the platform, the Doctor continued to scan and listen and peer into the dark. </p>
<p>“Right,” the Doctor finally said, standing upright and stretching. He stepped gingerly onto the rocky surface that separated the platform from the foundation of the Town of Ramsgate. Robin could barely make out his figure as he slowly crossed the ten feet between the platform and the pub. Reaching the wall, he then put his ear to the stone and listened for what seemed like a very long time. </p>
<p>When he finally returned to the platform and was close enough so that Robin could see his face, he looked delighted. </p>
<p>“What are you smiling about?” Robin asked.</p>
<p>“There’s something there,” he said. “It’s not alien, but it is from the future. And I think I know what it is.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am so glad the Doctor knows, because I still have no idea! I'm struggling, dear readers. What have I gotten myself into? 31 days - almost halfway through. Have to keep reminding myself that this is an excellent exercise for developing a writing habit, and I am grateful to anyone who is still bothering to read, even when I admit that I don't know where it's going. Some of the prompts are especially challenging in a 1908 setting.  I will gladly take suggestions, ideas, and additional prompts to keep me going!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. "Don't come in!"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin, Strike, and the Doctor enter the pub.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not that you can tell from the two lines that discuss beer, but I spent way more time skimming <a href="https://strathprints.strath.ac.uk/63806/1/Hands_Palgrave_2018_Drinking_In_Victorian_And_Edwardian_Britain.pdf">this</a> than actually writing this chapter. Resisted the urge to buy <a href="http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2010/01/1909-beer-style-guide-finished.html">this</a>, and I've always been too lazy to attempt to brew my own beer anyway. But the "Shut Up About Barclay Perkins" blog had an amazing <a href="http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2010/02/beer-genealogy.html">quote about Edwardian beer</a> that I feel works for this story as well. <em>"Edwardian beers are familiar, yet alien. The same names for quite different beers. Their obvious connection with modern British beers gives them resonance. Studying them is like investigating your family tree. Great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Relatives resting in their graves long before your birth, yet not totally disconnected. Perhaps your grandfather had met one."</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike wanted another cigarette, but he had no idea how long they would be away and thinking about the logistics of finding cigarettes or tobacco in this place - this time - seemed daunting, so he occupied himself by observing the outside of the pub in the alley as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He did not want to let Robin or the Doctor out of his sight, and he could just make out the glow from the Doctor’s screwdriver from the top of the stairs. </p>
<p>Confident as he was of Robin’s ability to defend herself from human attackers, his imagination conjured images of three-headed alien monsters and eerie zombies emerging from the depths of the river.</p>
<p>From his perch, he could also see inside some of the windows. The view was unclear, but he could tell that it was crowded and that drink was flowing freely. Every once in a while he would hear a burst of laughter or a yell as someone exited the pub from the main corner entrance and stumbled on homeward. Finally, he saw a temporary sliver of light as someone opened a side door, threw something in the alley and then retreated back into the building. A kitchen entrance, perhaps.</p>
<p>Robin and the Doctor returned to the top of the stairs. “We need to get into the cellar,” said the Doctor. </p>
<p>“How do you propose we do that?” Strike asked. </p>
<p>“There’s always a way,” said the Doctor, and jogged back down the alley toward the Wapping High Street. Robin walked with Strike, and admitted that she had seen nothing unusual at the bottom of the stairs, but that the Doctor had sensed something.</p>
<p>“Would have been bloody helpful if he’d thought of coming down here the last time you were here,” Strike grunted, as they rounded the corner and pushed their way into the crowded pub.  They tried to get as close to the bar as they could, and Strike heard Robin gasp.</p>
<p>“It’s him,” she said, nodding towards the bar. “It’s Seamus Dougherty. He looks exactly the same as the bartender at the Captain Kidd.”</p>
<p>Strike looked, and agreed that the man deftly tending bar was the spitting image of the bartender they had been watching all week. Strike scanned the space, which was very narrow and extended far back towards the river. The bar took up almost half the space of the pub and ran almost the entire length of the front room.</p>
<p>“Come on,” he said to Robin. “If there’s a cellar, the entrance is probably towards the back.” They pushed through the crowd, and came to a door. Strike turned the handle and started to push the door open, when an angry voice from behind yelled, “Oi! Don’t come in!” </p>
<p>They stepped back quickly, nearly knocking over the Doctor, who had come up behind them, grasping three pints by their handles. He handed one to each of them. “Cheers! It’s supposed to be nutritious!” he said brightly.</p>
<p>“Cheers,” mumbled Strike, more curious than he cared to admit about tasting the beer. It was a little bitter, but not bad, and it felt comforting and almost normal to be in a pub, drinking a pint. </p>
<p>The Doctor nodded at the closed door. “Is that the way to the cellar?” </p>
<p>“I think so,” said Robin. “Someone’s in there and they don’t want us in there with them.” </p>
<p>“I can take care of that,” said the Doctor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. "What's in it for me?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike, Robin, and the Doctor approach their target.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor knocked loudly on the door, but there was no response. He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. </p><p>“Can’t you use your screwdriver?” Strike asked. </p><p>“I could. But if they don’t want us in there, then we’d be better off coming up with a plan, don’t you think?” asked the Doctor, with a grin. </p><p>“What do you think is in the cellar?” Robin asked the Doctor. </p><p>He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Dunno. Barrels of beer? Rats?” </p><p>“No,” said Robin, with a tolerant and more patient smile than Strike would have managed. “What did you think you sensed in there when we were outside?”</p><p>“Oh, well. It wasn’t exactly in the cellar. It was below the cellar. But I’d have a better chance of confirming it if we could get down there.” </p><p>Strike leaned forward. “You’re not answering the question.” </p><p>The Doctor looked taken aback for a moment, but before Strike could say anything else, Robin tugged at his sleeve. </p><p>“I think,” said Robin, looking beyond both of them, towards the bar, “that it’s time to talk to Dougherty.” </p><p>“Okay,” said Strike. “But what, exactly, are we prepared to say to him? We can’t tell him the truth, and I’m not sure what to ask him at this point.”</p><p>“Not to interrogate him,” said Robin. “I agree that it won’t work. But if we can come up with an official reason to get him to go down to the cellar with us, maybe we’ll be able to observe anything supernatural? Or futuristic? Or….” Robin turned to the Doctor. “You said there was something from the future there?”</p><p>But the Doctor was ignoring her, and pulling a notebook of some kind out of his pocket. Strike wondered vaguely if his leather jacket was, like the TARDIS, bigger on the inside than it appeared.  He held it up. “Psychic paper!” he said. “Follow me.”</p><p>They all walked toward the bar, and the Doctor and Strike, who both stood a head above most of the men in the room, pushed towards the front. </p><p>“Do you know what psychic paper does?” Strike asked Robin. She shrugged. “Haven’t seen that one, but I suspect it works like some sort of identification?”</p><p>The Doctor downed his beer, put it on the counter, and when Seamus Dougherty came over to them, he waved the psychic paper in front of him. Robin had been correct. </p><p>“Liquor inspector!” said the Doctor cheerily. “We need to get down in the cellar and take some samples from your barrels.” </p><p>Seamus narrowed his eyes. “The owner’s having a meeting,” he said. “Can’t go back there until he’s done.”  </p><p>The Doctor waved the paper again. “We need to have a look in the cellar.” </p><p>Seamus crossed his arms. “What’s in it for me?”</p><p>“A clean report and no fines?” said the Doctor.</p><p>Seamus sighed. “Give me five minutes. They’re almost done and I’ll take you down.” </p><p>The Doctor nodded. He turned to Robin and Strike. “There’s something fishy going on,” he muttered. “That should’ve worked the first time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been rewatching Ninth Doctor, and what strikes me is that he's kind of a jerk, isn't he? And he definitely does not seem to like men very much. Maybe it's only because of Rose and he's jealous, but I'm trying to retain some of that attitude here. In my head, this story takes place before the Doctor meets Rose. Like, maybe Strike and Robin are his first failed attempt at companions after his regeneration. Can't remember if that's feasible or not with the actual story though!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. "I'll drive you there"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin and Strike have a little time to catch up and Robin tells Strike what she learned on her last visit to 1908.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor said he wanted to check out a few more things in the pub, so Robin and Strike stood by the closed door, watching the crowd, both trying to decide where best to focus.</p><p>“Weird, right?” said Robin. “I’m a little more used to it now, but the first day I was here I had a hard time.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” said Strike. “How did you decide what to do?”</p><p>“Well,” said Robin, “once we arrived, I set out to visit Dougherty’s wife and see if I could figure out if anything unusual was happening. Wasn’t that different from our normal surveillance, except that I didn’t have the Land Rover or a cafe to sit in. I had to kind of walk up and down the street and try to decide if I could fit into any of the households.”</p><p>“What did you think you were looking for?” </p><p>“The Doctor told me that if people are being controlled by aliens in some way - I know -” Strike had made a snort of laughter. “That they might appear to be suspicious themselves. You know, look like they were hiding things, glancing around a lot. Walking oddly.”</p><p>“Everything is odd here,” said Strike, looking around. He realized now that one of the things that was unsettling him was the lack of background music. So many times in pubs he had wished to turn down the music, finding it always too loud and distracting. But here, with only men’s voices making any sort of noise, he felt more as if he were in a cafeteria rather than a pub, despite the abundance of beer being consumed around him. </p><p>“Yes, it is,” admitted Robin. “And Dougherty’s wife is pregnant, so she’s not moving well anyway. I asked the Doctor if we should be suspicious of the pregnancy - you know - alien baby - “ Robin made a motion as if a monster were exploding out of her stomach, “but he said that it was unlikely. Anyway, I’ve been researching the genealogy for the case, and I believe that the baby she’s carrying is our client’s grandfather.”</p><p>“How does she spend her days?” </p><p>“It’s quite boring and awful, really,” said Robin. “He’s home most of the day, since he works late, and I guess he’s sleeping. She comes and goes, does occasional shopping, laundry, and I think she might do some sort of sewing or piecework inside their home. There’s a courtyard, and I went in and inquired if they had any beds for a single woman, and they said they had one, but I didn’t have the right money and the Doctor hadn’t thought of giving me that special paper.”</p><p>Strike rolled his eyes. The Doctor seemed to forget a lot of things. </p><p>“So nothing useful?” </p><p>“No. They seemed to get on well with the other families who live in their building, and I spoke to her several times because she told me that if I found some money for the bed, she could help me get some work with the same company. We talked about the baby. She’s nervous but really excited, and she loves her husband. They came here to England together. She’s really proud of his job.” </p><p>Someone shoved into him by accident, and Strike fell forward, nearly toppling Robin. They looked at each other for a moment; Robin looked quite adorable in her overalls and wool cap, and Strike resisted the urge to reach out and rub her cheek. Robin giggled. “Remember,” she said. “I’m in disguise.” </p><p>Strike smiled. “It’s a good one, but I prefer Bobbi.” </p><p>Robin let out a gasp. “You just reminded me! There was something, now that I think about it.” </p><p>“I’m listening.” </p><p>“Dougherty came down to go to work on the last evening I was there - last night I suppose. There was another man standing on the corner. He seemed to really want to talk to Dougherty, and Dougherty looked annoyed. The other man asked if he was heading to the pub, and Dougherty said yes, and the other man said, ‘Come on, I’ll drive you there.’” </p><p>“I’ll drive you? Like, in a car?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Dougherty didn’t take him up on it. He looked… now I remember… he looked a little taken aback. At the time, I thought maybe this man was a cabbie, or had some sort of vehicle, but that doesn’t seem likely around here, does it? Dougherty just walked away and the man stayed there as far as I could tell. I started to follow Dougherty, but I don’t recall seeing anything that resembled any sort of vehicle, modern or otherwise, nearby.”</p><p>Strike filed this information away for the future. “Do you see this man in here now?” Robin ran her eyes across the crowd, but shook her head. He was about to ask her if there had been anything unusual about his clothing, hair, etc., when the door behind them opened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Most of my ideas for what the Dougherty's living situation would be came from memories of watching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_Slum_House">Victorian Slum House</a> a few years ago.  Although I realize that it ended a decade before this story took place. So don't go looking for too much historical accuracy. "I'll drive you there" was an incredibly difficult prompt to tie into this particular story. That is all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. "Isn't this what you wanted?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike, Robin, and the Doctor take Dougherty downstairs to investigate the cellar.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm now about halfway through my Ninth Doctor re-watch, and I am more in awe of Russell T Davies than ever before. There are so many plotholes and random statements made by the Doctor that make NO SENSE, and yet, it doesn't bother me at all because it all moves along so quickly and the characters are so good. (I am the type of person who can barely watch feature-length movies anymore because I'll be sidelined by some ridiculous minor extra character that doesn't fit, and won't be able to let it go). All I keep thinking is how fun and liberating it would have been to actually get to be a writer for Doctor Who.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Five men exited the back room. Robin and Strike watched them closely, they were dressed in finer clothing than most of the men in the pub, and Robin confirmed that the man who she had seen on the corner was not among them. Rather than going straight in, they waited and a few moments later, the Doctor joined them, along with Dougherty, who was carrying a lantern. Dougherty seemed dour - not at all the cheery and chatty barman that both Strike and Robin had observed at the Captain Kidd. Strike felt that the Doctor’s nervous energy might be off-putting. The open door to the cellar revealed another set of very steep stairs.</p><p>“Do you want to stay up here?” Robin asked him quietly. But at least these stairs appeared dry, and there was a flimsy railing, so Strike shook his head and they descended slowly behind the others, Strike alternating between the railing and the walking stick for support. The Doctor was chatting knowledgeably with Dougherty about beer regulations and brewing issues around London.</p><p>“Stay by the stairs,” said Strike, under his breath, before they reached the bottom. “In case we need to block them. I have no idea what we’ll find, but I have a feeling we may need to coerce Dougherty to show us something.” </p><p>The cellar was unremarkable. The light of the lantern was dim, and it was very crowded with the four of them in the room - there were at least a dozen large barrels of beer filling up the space.  </p><p>“You want samples from every barrel?” Dougherty asked. “They’re all from the same brewery, and they were all delivered yesterday, so I expect there won’t be much difference between them.” </p><p>“Nonetheless,” said the Doctor, briskly, “we shall need samples from all of them.” He held up the sonic screwdriver. “I have a new sampling tool. Shouldn’t take long.”</p><p>Strike noticed that Dougherty’s glance kept shifting from the Doctor to a spot at the far side of the cellar. He looked nervous and kept shifting from foot to foot. He seemed to barely register what the Doctor was doing, and certainly did not seem to notice that the Doctor was not actually removing beer from any of the barrels.</p><p>A flicker of light behind one of the beer barrels caught Strike’s attention. The Doctor hadn’t made his way to that part of the room yet. Strike started to stroll in that direction. Dougherty made a sudden move, but then seemed to think better of it, and stopped. Strike bent over to examine the behind the barrel. There was a crack right where the floor and wall intersected, and Strike could see what looked like very, very bright light streaking through it. In addition, there was something on the floor, pushed up against the edge of the barrel. Strike didn’t touch it, but instead, stood up and addressed the Doctor. </p><p>“Doctor,” he said. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Strike pointed behind the barrel. </p><p>Dougherty’s eyes opened wide. The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. Dougherty looked torn, for a moment, and then began to back towards the stairs. Strike nodded at Robin, who ran to the top ahead of him and pulled the door shut.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And... we're past the halfway point and I actually have outlined the rest of the story so that it ends on some sort of coherent note. And I've left some time for just Strike and Robin near the end. Thank you everyone who has made it this far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. "Don't lie to me!"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor gets closer to finding out what's below the cellar.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Interesting,” said the Doctor. “It looks like there’s something below the cellar.” </p><p>Dougherty looked wildly from Robin, who was still standing near the top of the stairs, and at Strike, who was standing guard in front of the Doctor. </p><p>The Doctor was crouched down behind the barrel, walking his palms along the floor stones and the wall, listening and feeling for something. </p><p>“What d’you think it is?” Strike asked the Doctor, his eyes not leaving Dougherty, who seemed pinned to the spot.</p><p>“It’s human,” said the Doctor. “Not alien. But it doesn’t fit.” He stood and turned to face Dougherty. “What did you see down there? Is there a way to get in?”</p><p>For a brief moment - so brief that most people wouldn’t notice, Dougherty’s eyes flicked toward the beer barrel in front of where the Doctor was standing. Strike noticed, but decided to give Dougherty the chance to speak. </p><p>“I-I- I don’t know what you mean.” Dougherty’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t know what you’re looking at. You’re - you’re all imagining things.” Dougherty looked back up the stairs towards Robin. “Just tell her to move - if she lets me out, we can get back to our evening.”</p><p>“Her?” asked Strike. He knew Robin was a woman, nonetheless, he’d thought her disguise quite convincing. This man had been unaffected by the Doctor’s psychic paper, seemed unfazed by the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, and now seemed entirely unconvinced by Robin’s costume. But why?</p><p>Strike took a step forward, and, using his walking stick, held it in front of the staircase and gave Dougherty a fierce look. “We know there’s something going on down there. And we’re here to stop it, whatever it is. Make it easy for us and show us how you get down there.”</p><p>“I don’t know!” </p><p>“Don’t lie to me,” said Strike. He chose not to threaten any further. He simply waited. In his experience, most people cracked under stressful situations without much prompting. After a tense minute, when no one spoke, Strike said, without taking his eyes off of Dougherty, “Doctor, I suggest you open that barrel.” </p><p>“No,” said Dougherty. “Please. No. I told them I wouldn’t tell. Please. I’ll lose my job, and.... and… everything.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. "Is this really necessary?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor reveals his suspicions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike moved to keep Dougherty pinned against the wall, and Robin descended the stairs, although she continued to block the way out.  Strike nodded his head towards the barrel.</p><p>“Doctor,” he said. “I think you should open that barrel.”</p><p>“I was just thinking that,” said the Doctor, pulling on the little handle on the lid. </p><p>“Right,” muttered Strike, under his breath. </p><p>However, the lid appeared to be stuck. Failing to open it with his bare hands, the Doctor ran the  sonic screwdriver around the edges and then lifted the lid easily, with a flourish. A bright light flooded the cellar room. The Doctor peered inside. “There’s a ladder,” he said. </p><p>“What’s down there, Seamus?” asked Strike. </p><p>“2487,” said the Doctor.</p><p>“What?” said Strike and Dougherty together.</p><p>“2487, I should have known from the lumens and the smell. But I’m a bit rusty these days. Slower than I usually am. Have you actually been down there, Seamus? Do you know what they’re doing?”</p><p>Dougherty looked down at his feet. “Yeah. The boss knows all about it. He’s one of them. It looks like a factory down there. They make these machines - they fly.”</p><p>“Like an airplane?” asked Robin.</p><p>Dougherty shook his head. “No. I’ve read about those in the paper. The ones we’re making, well, they’re clumsy. Don’t stay up very long. These machines… they only go out at night.  And they look - they look like the ones in that story!”</p><p>Something clicked in Strike’s brain. “D’you mean <em>War of the Worlds</em>?”</p><p>“That’s the one! But they said they’re not from Mars. They said they’re just ‘doing research.’ And they gave me this.” Dougherty pulled something out of the pocket of his trousers. It was an orb, the size of a walnut, that glowed slightly as he held it up. </p><p>The Doctor came closer to Dougherty, and peered at the orb with a look of wonder. “A quillian!” he said. “Yes. Haven’t seen one in a very long time. That’s how you were able to see through the psychic paper. Why are they tracking you, Dougherty?”</p><p>“Tracking?” said Dougherty. “I thought that was it. I tried to get rid of it. But it keeps coming back to me. Look - I can’t let go.” He attempted to open his palm wide and he shook his hand, but the little orb just rolled along his skin, as if his whole body were a magnet. </p><p>He looked at the Doctor with terror in his eyes. “Please,” he whispered. “My wife’s expecting a baby soon. They promised they’d take care of her if anything happened to me. Don’t go down there. They’ll know I let you in.” </p><p>For a moment, the Doctor looked conflicted. But then he shook his head. “Nope. Trust me, you’ll thank us later. We’re going to go down and have a chat with whoever’s running this operation. And you have to come with us.”</p><p>Strike leaned forward to look into the barrel. The ladder descended about 15 feet below the floor. “I’m not making it down there.”</p><p>“Take off the leg,” said the Doctor.</p><p>“What?” said Strike.</p><p>“Take it off. You can go down on one leg, and put it back on when we reach the bottom.”</p><p>“Oh, okay,” said Strike, barely concealing his contempt for the idea. “I’ll just pull it off, sling it over my shoulder, hop down the ladder, and re-attach in at the bottom, while we don’t know who or what is waiting for us, and we have no weapons with us, except for a magical-bloody-screwdriver!”</p><p>“Is this really necessary?” asked Robin, stepping forward. “Shouldn’t someone stay here and guard the space?” </p><p>“Your boyfriend,” said the Doctor, jerking his head at Strike, “didn’t want you to be separated. And I agree with him in this case. I’m not so sure that we’re going to end up leaving the way that we came.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been a clusterfork of a week, and it's only Tuesday. Very happy I have the fan fic to keep me focused! Now if I could only focus on work....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. "Look away"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike and co. climb to the bottom of the ladder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike did not want to admit that the Doctor had been correct. He was able to shimmy down the ladder with some level of ease using his one good leg and leaning on his other thigh for support.  Robin insisted on stuffing his leg down her oversized overalls, and although Strike could see the humor in the situation, he decided to brood instead. </p><p>No one was waiting for them at the bottom, and they had time for Strike to sit and reattach his leg. They were in a bright, yet oddly-lit corridor, and Strike could see that it sloped significantly downward, and at the end it opened up into what looked like a cavernous sort of hangar. They must be under the Thames. </p><p>Slowly, they walked towards the open area. The light grew brighter, and more strange. Although the intensity hurt his eyes, everything looked grainy, as if it were in black and white. When they reached the end of the corridor, the Doctor stuck his head around the corner. </p><p>“Allindrian saucers!” he exclaimed. He turned to Strike and Robin. “These won’t be invented for another 400 years. So the question is, Mr. Bartender - “ Now the Doctor addressed Dougherty “- why are they here in London, in 1908?”</p><p>Dougherty shook his head. “I don’t really know. They fly them around at night but people don’t see them. They took me home in one once, dropped me right in the courtyard, and no one noticed. They called it a ‘test run’.” </p><p>Strike was trying to take in as much of the scene as he could. Despite the strange shapes, which really did look like cheap movie prop flying saucers, he felt something ominous. He knew what it was like when troops gathered, and also what it meant to prepare for war. And there were soldiers - people in drab, but functional clothing, milling around the vehicles, checking them, consulting with each other. </p><p>The ceiling beyond the corridor was high, but Strike saw several staircases that led upwards, towards doorways of some kind. Maybe they led into other buildings along the Wapping High Street? He was relieved to see that there were other potential exits, although he feared that they all might open up to the river bed. </p><p>“Robin,” he asked. “How deep is the Thames? Do you know?” </p><p>“About 25 meters, on average, I think,” said Robin. She was still at the back of their party, keeping a sharp eye on Dougherty and blocking the way back towards the ladder and the pub’s cellar.  </p><p>“How’d you get mixed up in this, Dougherty?” asked Strike. “Did you stumble upon all of this, or were you recruited?”</p><p>“Recruited?” Dougherty paused. “Never thought of that. I was working driving the beer trucks, and Mr. Dingle asked me if I wanted to move up and tend the bar. I’m no one special.”</p><p>“Ah, but maybe you are,” said the Doctor, looking Dougherty up and down. “History and time - they’re so strong, and yet, so fragile. There’s something connected to you that they want to stop - some reason to involve you. I’d wager - “ </p><p>Strike heard footsteps echoing down the corridor behind them. He started to turn around, as the Doctor ran towards Strike, Dougherty, and Robin and shielded them with his body. “Look away!” he yelled, and then they all tumbled to the ground in a heap.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. "Does this help?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dougherty's boss arrives to thicken the plot and make bad, punny jokes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They all lay in a heap on the floor.  After a minute, the Doctor lifted his head. “Stay down,” he said to the others. </p><p>They heard footsteps, and then, “Damn!”</p><p>“It didn’t work,” said the Doctor, and Strike realized that he was talking to whomever had approached them.</p><p>“What didn’t work?” asked Strike, from the ground. </p><p>“Whatever clumsy and imperfect attempt at time travel that this baby human has created,” said the Doctor. “You can get up now.”</p><p>The man, who had stepped over Strike and Robin, and was reaching to pull Dougherty up from the ground, stilled. He said, in almost a whisper, “How did you know?”</p><p>“Rufus Dingle,” said the Doctor. </p><p>The man looked at the Doctor sharply. “What did you say?”</p><p>The Doctor started to walk towards the open part of the large, open area. Robin stood up and reached out a hand for Strike. They both rose, and started to follow the Doctor’s lead. The Doctor looked a little wild, but Strike thought his movements seemed somewhat deliberate.</p><p>“Rufus Dingle. Also known as Emperor Tandini of Allindria, one of the earth’s first extra-terrestrial kingdoms. First populated in 2461. Became a major force in training because of the quillic oxide on the planet. That oxide powered your saucers. You were promoted, from pilot to emperor.”</p><p>“Thank you for the history lesson,” said Dingle. “Who are you when you’re at home, then?”</p><p>“I’m the Doctor.”</p><p>Dingle took a step back. </p><p>“And I know what happened in 2487. You can’t fix it like this, you know. Time will win.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dingle. Then he turned to Dougherty. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “It’s time.” Then he laughed at his own joke.</p><p>Dingle gripped Dougherty’s arm tightly, and started to pull him out into the open, towards the largest and nearest of the saucer-like vehicles. Dougherty resisted.</p><p>“I said, it’s time,” said Dingle. “Remember what I promised. You can go into the future - a shilling there is worth thousands here. You and your wife and child - it’s a chance to live in luxury.” </p><p>“So you’ve promised him riches,” said the Doctor. “You’ve promised to care for his family. No offense,” he continued, glancing at Dougherty, “but why all this fuss over one poor, Irish bartender?”</p><p>Dingle didn’t answer. He did not let go of Dougherty’s arm. “What is it?” asked the Doctor, pacing slowly. Strike was nervous - he noticed that some of the people working around the saucers had stopped and were now watching them from afar. “When people mess with time like this, it’s usually to prevent something. What - does Dougherty end up fathering an ancestor who presents a threat to you?”</p><p>Robin spoke up. “I thought about that. But if they wanted his baby, why not just target his wife? It would be easy enough to get at her.”</p><p>The Doctor turned to her. “You did the genealogical research. How many kids does our Seamus end up with?”</p><p>Comprehension dawned on Robin’s face. “Five,” she said. “This one is obviously the first, but there are four more who come later.”</p><p>“Exactly!” said the Doctor. “Unless he’s gone and unable to father those children. Right?”</p><p>Dingle laughed. “You can’t stop me now, Doctor. We have a plan. We’ve discovered time travel. You don’t have a monopoly on it anymore. We were able to come here, and we’re able to send people away, and I don’t see how you can stop us.”</p><p>The Doctor started to walk toward the far wall. Strike and Robin, after hesitating a moment, followed him. Dingle was close behind. A very long staircase, without a railing, ran up the wall, terminating with a small door. Dingle ran forward, dragging Dougherty awkwardly with him.</p><p>The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver. “You don’t see how we can stop you?” he asked. “Does this help?”</p><p>“No!” shouted Dingle. Dougherty ripped himself free, but as he did so, two of the workers who had been watching from afar ran after him. They shot some sort of bright light towards him, and Dougherty disappeared as if he’d never existed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really, really wish I’d watched all of the Ninth Doctor season immediately before writing this, rather than trying to catch up in snippets as I write. Because Episode 8, “Father’s Day” has some of what I was imagining, but of course, it’s already been done so I’m trying not to copy. Also, it made me feel better because the time travel doesn't make any sense. By the way, I also remembered that “Father’s Day” was my favorite episode, and I cried for the last fifteen minutes watching it again, so maybe it’s stuck in the depths of my brain somewhere.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. "I can't reach it"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone escapes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: I finally had to switch a prompt. This one just made more sense here!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a moment, everyone stood still, frozen, and then, chaos.</p><p>Strike did not know where to turn - he grabbed hold of Robin - and he knew that they should probably be climbing the staircase, but he had no idea where it led, and those people with the magic guns were heading their way. The Doctor, with a frenzied look in his eyes, turned to them and said “Start climbing. Get to the door. I’ll hold them off. Whatever you do, don’t stop climbing.”</p><p>Then he was off. He knocked over the two men who had been running towards them, and Dingle was already halfway across the room, heading towards the largest of the saucers. Strike hesitated for a moment. “What if the Doctor gets … killed or something? How do we get back?”</p><p>Robin patted the front of her overalls. “He’s given me a key to the TARDIS. I don’t know how to work it, but at least we could get inside. Let’s worry about that later. We might as well start climbing.”</p><p>Strike looked up the wall with a big sigh. The staircase looked very, very long. “You’d think in the future they’d at least have an escalator, or some sort of transport system.”</p><p>“We don’t know that these people built this room. Maybe it had some other purpose and they claimed it. Come on,” said Robin. “You go first. If you use your knee, I think it will actually go quite smoothly. You might pay for it later, but we don’t know what we’ll find when we get to the top.”</p><p>They began their ascent, and were about halfway up the staircase, when they heard a “Ha ha!” from below, and both turned to see another bright light and puff of smoke. The tall figure of the Doctor was still visible, walking through it, and someone was on the floor in front of him. The saucers and all the other people had now disappeared. </p><p>“Better keep climbing,” said Robin, who was a few steps below Strike, being careful not to get hit in the face with his leg. A moment later, they heard a “Hello!” and saw the Doctor and… Seamus Dougherty climbing the ladder. They soon caught up to Strike and Robin.</p><p>“What the…?” Strike began to ask. </p><p>“Save it for later,” said the Doctor. “Keep climbing.” </p><p>The door at the top did not have any sort of ledge or landing. There was a rope hanging from the top, and Strike reached out to pull it. The door opened inward, and with great difficulty, heaved himself into what was a narrow, low, and dark passageway.</p><p>He felt Robin tapping his leg. Strike turned, and saw that she was holding out the Doctor’s screwdriver, which was lit up like a torch. “He said to use this,” she said.</p><p>“Cheers.” Strike took the screwdriver, and could see that the passage curved slightly upwards. There was another door at the end, above their heads. As they drew closer, the passage widened and grew in height.  Strike stood under the door and stretched his arm as high as he could. “I can’t reach it,” he said, squinting upwards, and then shining the screwdriver around the space.</p><p>“Maybe you could lift me up? suggested Robin.</p><p>There was now room for all of them to stand together, and the Doctor took the sonic screwdriver from Strike. “Humans. I forgot how optimistic you always are. Allow me,” he said. </p><p>With a flick of a switch, he pointed at something in the door, and they found themselves enclosed in a glass elevator, which began slowly rising towards the ceiling.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>End note: Confession - I thought I mapped out all the remaining chapters last weekend, when, in fact, I completely skipped about five prompts. So that’s why the big “action” happened a week before the story ends. If this week has taught me anything, it’s that you have to be prepared when plans change, which they could do at any moment...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. "Are you warm enough?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin, Strike, the Doctor, and Seamus Dougherty escape through a tunnel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Suspend a lot of disbelief here, please. From what I can tell, and what seems like it might be a crazy stroke of luck for me, it seems like it *might* be possible that the Thames Tunnel was not electrified until after 1908 and that at this time, only steam trains were running occasionally through it. But I don’t know 100%.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The glass elevator rose through the opening in the ceiling, and the door opened into what looked like another tunnel.</p><p>“Where are we?” Robin asked, peering around, attempting to discern their surroundings. She could see dim lights in the distance, but nothing immediately surrounding them. </p><p>The Doctor shined the screwdriver around. They could see railroad tracks. “Are we in the Thames Tunnel?” asked Strike.</p><p>“Brilliant!” said the Doctor. “I was worried we’d come up in the water. This is much better.”</p><p>Strike rolled his eyes. “Which way do you think is the best way out?” </p><p>“It’s a tunnel, I think we’ll get out on either side,” said the Doctor, turning left and walking. </p><p>It was cold, and dark, but thankfully not wet. Strike tried not to think about how many rats night be running around, There were arches on either side of the tunnel, and Strike supposed that if a train did come through, they could duck into one of them and be relatively safe. Dougherty, who had been silent, seemed resigned, and rushed to catch up with the Doctor. Strike hung back and put an arm around Robin’s shoulder. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. In the dim light, he could see that her hair had completely fallen out of her cap</p><p>“Mmmm. Now I am,” she said, leaning into him. “But right now, I think the walking will warm us both up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. "What time is it?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor attempts to explain the science behind Dougherty's time travel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not a scientist. That is all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel and Strike was relieved to see that they were at what seemed to be the Wapping Station, on the correct side of the river. Every step drew them closer to the TARDIS, and to him, now, this was their primary objective. He needed to know that they were done.</p><p>“Are you going to tell us what happened back there?” Strike asked the Doctor.</p><p>The Doctor stopped and turned to face them. “You heard what I said about Allindria earlier. Turns out that quillic oxide, when mixed a certain way, can rearrange atoms to create a sort of imperfect time travel. It’s simplistic though. How much of this do you want me to explain?”</p><p>“Will we understand it?” asked Strike. </p><p>“Probably not,” said the Doctor.</p><p>Strike smirked. “Right. Then get to the important part.”</p><p>“Dingle was facing opposition, and he had a lot of ships and a lot of quillic oxide, but not a lot of military power. Rather than face his opponent head-on, he decided to erase him. Travel back in time and destroy the source.” The Doctor nodded at Dougherty.  “Mr. Dougherty - you are the great-great-great-great-I-don’t-know-how-many-grandfather of President Ozzix, first democractic leader of Allindria, elected 2487 after the sudden disappearance of the Emperor Tandini.”</p><p>Dougherty’s mouth dropped open, and he shook his head, as if trying to settle all the information.</p><p>“But,” said Robin, “if this quillic oxide stuff is so unpredictable, how did you bring Seamus back to us? </p><p>“Ah, remember our friend’s little trinket? The quillian? Do you still have it?” The Doctor turned to Dougherty, who dug into his pocket and pulled out the little orb. It was dull and dead-looking. Like an old marble that had rolled behind a sofa and stayed there for decades.</p><p>“Good,” said the Doctor. “It’s deactivated now. It had tracking properties, even across time. I was able to use it to bring him back. Then I used the sonic screwdriver to reflect the ray gun beams back at Dingle and his mates. Don’t know where they went, but they’re gone from here.”</p><p>Strike mulled this over. “They looked like they were preparing for a battle.”</p><p>“Well,” said the Doctor. “They were stuck here. They could send him back and forth with the quillian, but they must have broken something and they couldn’t get them and all their ships back to 2487. Dingle probably figured he’d try to take advantage of this situation somehow.”</p><p>“Didn’t he ever read books about time travel?” asked Robin. “You’re not supposed to mess with things like births and deaths!”</p><p>“Right you are,” said the Doctor. “Now, we had better deliver this one back home, and make sure all is right with the world. What time is it?”</p><p>Strike didn’t care what time it was, as long as it meant he’d soon be back in 2015.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. "Do you want me to stop?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Seamus Dougherty goes home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike, Robin, Dougherty, and the Doctor walked along the street, which was now much quieter than it had been earlier. </p><p>Seamus Dougherty broke the silence. “What are you exactly?” he asked the Doctor. “Are you… God?” </p><p>The Doctor stopped in his tracks. “I don’t like that term,” he said. </p><p>“I thought they were gods at first,” said Dougherty. “Dingle and his crew. Regular <em>people</em> don’t travel in time and build flying saucers and live on other planets. That’s not really possible.”</p><p>“Oh,” said the Doctor. “But it <em>is</em> possible. People can do amazing things. You never cease to amaze me.”</p><p>Strike took Robin’s hand, and squeezed it. </p><p>“So,” said Dougherty, sounding tentative. “Is everything predestined then? Set in stone?”</p><p>“Don’t go getting any ideas,” said the Doctor. “Live your best life. Set realistic goals. Take care of your family and do good by them. Not everything is fixed. Big things, yes, little things, no. But there’s no way to know which is which.”</p><p>They had reached Dougherty’s building. They all stopped, and stood a bit awkwardly. “Erm,” said Dougherty, addressing Robin and Strike. “I don’t really know who you are, but thank you?”</p><p>Strike held out his hand. “Cormoran Strike. I’m a detective.” He paused for dramatic effect. “From the twenty-first century.” </p><p>“And I’m his partner, Robin Ellacott.” Dougherty looked closely at Robin, who had removed her cap, and was shaking out her hair. </p><p>“I saw you in the pub!” he said. “In the future? You were drinking a lot of tea.”</p><p>Robin laughed. “I was meant to be watching you. Your great-grandson saw you in there and was suspicious, so he hired us. We thought he was off-his-rocker. Turns out he wasn’t crazy.”</p><p>“My great-grandson…” said Dougherty.  His face fell. “I was so stupid. I could have lost everything. I just thought… I thought I could earn a bit more money and bring it home. I didn’t realize that it would be so difficult to come back.” </p><p>“Go on then,” said the Doctor. “Go inside and hug your wife.” </p><p>“Thank you,” said Dougherty. And then, he ran toward the door, turning once to wave to them.</p><p>The three of them stood together in the street for a moment, staring at Dougherty’s building, lost in thought. Strike reached in his pocket for a cigarette. The Doctor cleared his throat.<br/>“What?” asked Strike. </p><p>“That’s not good for you, you know,” said the Doctor.</p><p>Strike paused, one hand putting a cigarette to his lips, the other reaching in his pocket for a lighter. “Do you want me to stop?”</p><p>“Your choice,” said the Doctor. “This is one of those little things.” He looked at Robin. “But you have to ask yourself, how important is an extra year, or an extra five years, to spend with the woman you love?”</p><p>Strike dropped the unlit cigarette to the ground. “Very important,” he said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather spend it in the twenty-first century.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I feel guilty having the Doctor get on Strike’s case about smoking. I’m an ex-smoker, and if I knew that the world was ending, or if I knew everything was predestined, I’d probably immediately start again, and I wasn’t even a heavy smoker. Strike’s got a lot of stuff to deal with, and if he wants to smoke, I feel like he’s entitled, as long as it’s not in anyone else’s space. I have a lot of empathy for people who are having a really hard time breaking the habit who are now judged and treated essentially like criminals any time they light up in public (at least in my area). Notice that Robin never gives him a hard time about it, although I suspect his quitting will be a plot point at some point. Hell, his cigarettes are almost their own character.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. "How long was I asleep?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike and the Doctor bond. Sort of.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sense of relief that Strike felt when he saw that the TARDIS was still sitting outside the park was immense. Once he had decided to trust the Doctor and immerse himself in the journey, he had almost forgotten that they were stuck in a location that they could only leave using alien technology that looked, most ridiculously, like an old-fashioned police box that had seen better days.</p><p>The Doctor unlocked and pushed open the door, and the three of them entered. They had been quiet upon their return, all lost in their own diverse thoughts.</p><p>“I’m just going to, ah, get this started,” said the Doctor. His usual exuberance was absent, and he seemed deflated. “2015. You’re sure?”</p><p>Strike and Robin exchanged glances. “Yes,” they said together. “Please,” said Robin. She left them to descend into the costume room.</p><p>The Doctor was fiddling with the controls on the TARDIS’s main console. Strike sat in the chair they had set up earlier with a groan. He rubbed his knee. “So what was this war?” he asked the Doctor. “The Time War?”</p><p>The Doctor’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t turn around, but continued fiddling with the controls and spoke. “My planet was called Gallifrey. My people were the Time Lords. We fought the Daleks across space and time for 400 years.”</p><p>Strike knew better than to ask what they had been fighting for. Instead, he just said, “What happened. What did you lose?”</p><p>“My planet. My people. I vowed that I would travel wherever time would take me, trying to heal the wounds.”</p><p>“It’s something,” said Strike. “To take control of your future. Choose your path.” </p><p>“Yes,” was all the Doctor replied. Then - “Might as well settle in. The time winds are calm right now. It might take us a little while.” Strike nodded, removed the wool cap he was still wearing, and placed it over his eyes. </p><p>***<br/>A jolt awoke Strike. Robin, who was now sitting next to him, gripped his arm. “How long was I asleep?” he asked her. </p><p>The TARDIS lurched and a huge fire of sparks flew out of the control board. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Robin yelled.</p><p>“Nothing! Nothing!” said the Doctor. “We just had to make a quick stop. Nothing to worry about!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For anyone who is a huge Doctor Who fan - I started to read up on the Time Wars, because I only remember snippets from the episodes I watched. Turns out, there was a whole revisionist episode with John Hurt and David Tennant and Matt Smith called “The Day of the Doctor” that might be fun to watch, but is totally impossible to understand when reading the plot description on Wikipedia. Christopher Eccleston refused to appear in it, so in deference to him, I am kind of just making up the Time War stuff in this chapter, based on the little information I remember from the Ninth Doctor season.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. "Don't freak out"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In case you were wondering, the TARDIS floats.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nothing to worry about?” Strike repeated. “Where are we then?”</p><p>“I think the question is, <em>when</em> are we,” answered the Doctor.</p><p>“All right,” said Strike, who now felt wide awake. “<em>When</em> are we?”</p><p>The Doctor looked at the control board, and then up at the ceiling. After a moment, he said, “I’d have to look outside to check, but we might be in 2487. Probably the TARDIS was a little confused because of my trick with the sonic screwdriver earlier.”</p><p>“The TARDIS was confused?” Strike asked, standing up. “Does that happen often?”</p><p>“Don’t freak out,” said the Doctor. “We can just pick up and go again. But aren’t you the least bit curious? It’s the future. To you, anyway.”</p><p>Robin tugged at Strike’s sleeve. “I am, a bit,” she said. He gave her a dark look. “Oh, come on!” she said. “We don’t have to go far. The Doctor said - we’re not here to save anything - it’s just a glitch in the controls, right?” She turned to the Doctor with a hopeful glance. </p><p>“Right!” said the Doctor. “Just peek your head out and look back in.”</p><p>“Are we still in London?” Strike asked.</p><p>“Yep!” said the Doctor. “Should be in the same location.”</p><p>“Won’t we be under water or something?” Strike asked. “Climate change and all that?”</p><p>“There’s the enthusiasm I was waiting for!” said the Doctor. </p><p>The three of them approached the doors to the TARDIS. “What happens if London is underwater?” Robin asked.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” said the Doctor. “The TARDIS floats.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. "You scared the shit out of me"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike and Robin get a glimpse of the future.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am starting to feel very sad that Striketober is almost over. I've had so much fun working on this. I hope I can find some way to occupy my spare time, such as it is, after this! Having the prompts definitely helped me, that's for sure. And I am going to miss daily updates from everyone else.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor pulled the door open, and the bright sunlight nearly blinded them. It was very, very warm outside, and the heat that blasted towards them was humid and dense.</p><p>“This is London?” asked Strike. He looked down. The TARDIS was, indeed, floating on water. The Thames, he presumed. </p><p>“Look over there,” said the Doctor. Strike looked and saw, in the distance, what looked like beaches, and a tall sort of cage standing out among the other buildings. </p><p>“Is that… the Gherkin?” asked Robin. “On a beach?”</p><p>“Oh yes,” said the Doctor. “They tried to market London as the ‘new Mediterranean.’ Think about it - people are already running vineyards in England, there are palm trees in Cornwall…”</p><p>Robin stuck her head out the door a bit further. “Doesn’t smell so wonderful here.” </p><p>“No,” said the Doctor. “Turns out that heat alone does not a resort town make. Anyway, the people of the twenty-fifth century don’t really care. They’re so focused on leaving the planet that quite a lot here is in disrepair.”</p><p>The TARDIS lurched, and Robin, who was already leaning the furthest out of the entrance, in front of the Doctor and Strike, gave a small cry, as she lost her balance, and fell forward. </p><p>“Robin!” Strike reached out, and in a move reminiscent of their first meeting, grabbed her coat, and pulled her back into the TARDIS.</p><p>Steadying herself inside against the railing, Robin put a hand across her chest, and took several deep breaths. </p><p>“You scared the shit out of me,” said Strike, who was also trying to steady his racing heart. He pulled Robin into a hug, and looked over her head at the Doctor. “We’ve seen it now. The future. It’s wet. Can we go home?”</p><p>The Doctor shrugged. “Dunno. Not sure if I can fix the TARDIS.” </p><p>Robin pulled away from Strike and they both glared at the Doctor. </p><p>“Joking!” said the Doctor with a smile. “Usually it’s the future that excites you lot. Ah well, I’ll take you back to 2015. Although if you don’t mind me saying - “</p><p>Strike nodded towards the control board. “All right,” said the Doctor. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you about 2020.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. "That doesn't count"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor takes Strike and Robin home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I thought I had actually finished writing this over the weekend, so imagine my surprise upon finding a half-finished chapter this morning, LoL. I think it's done now though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This time, the TARDIS landed gently, with a soft jerk, which caused no one to lose their balance. Strike and Robin walked very quickly towards the door, and this time, Robin pulled it open.  At first, they could see very little, it was nighttime, but Strike was comforted by the sight of pavement and road immediately outside.  </p><p>Strike held out his hand to Robin, and she took it, and they stepped outside together, tentatively. Strike inhaled deeply. “Smells right,” he said.</p><p>“And it’s damp and cold,” said Robin. “Feels right.”</p><p>The Doctor exited the TARDIS as well.  “Ah, the early twenty-first century. Such a charming time in earth’s history.” </p><p>“Well,” said Strike, “you’re not leaving yet. We need to make sure you’ve returned us to the day we left in 2015, and not sometime close, like two months from now.”</p><p>“Check your phone,” said Robin. She pulled hers out of her pocket and switched it on. “Looks alright,” she said. “It’s late. Just past ten.” Robin smiled at the Doctor. “Come have a drink. We should see if everything feels normal at the Town of Ramsgate.”</p><p>But the Doctor stayed by the TARDIS. “I’m confident we’re in the right place. And I don’t do small talk.”</p><p>Robin nodded, reached in her pocket, and handed the spare key to the TARDIS back to the Doctor. </p><p>“Where will you go now?” Robin asked him.</p><p>“Whenever time takes me, I suppose,” he said. </p><p>“Will we see you again?” asked Robin.</p><p>“How do you know you haven’t already seen me?” asked the Doctor, raising his eyebrows. “1992. Skegness.”</p><p>Robin’s mouth dropped open. “Skegness?” And then, after a moment, “That was… you? With the donkey?”</p><p>The Doctor shrugged. Robin recovered and said, “Well, that doesn’t count. I didn’t know you then. Will we see you in future?”</p><p>“Only time will tell,” he said. “Now, the two of you still have a lot of work to do. You didn’t become the best detective agency in London by hanging around dark parks at night. Well, not entirely.”</p><p>And with a nod to them both, he stepped backward into the TARDIS and let the door shut in front of him. </p><p>Strike and Robin watched as the TARDIS faded from view. For a moment, they stood, in silence. Then Strike’s phone pinged. He looked down at it. </p><p>“Text from Dougherty’s grandson, asking what we’ve discovered.”</p><p>Robin laughed. “What are we going to tell him? The truth? Anyway, he’ll be gone from the Captain Kidd tomorrow - forever if we’re lucky.”</p><p>“We’ll think of something,” said Strike, putting an arm around Robin. “You heard him - we’re the best detectives in London.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. "What did you want to talk to me about?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strike and Robin go home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike and Robin walked slowly towards the Wapping Station. Considering they had been traveling through time for many, many hours, Strike felt alert and awake. </p><p>“Where do you want to go?” he asked. </p><p>“Denmark Street,” said Robin decisively. “It’s a bit closer and I have a change of clothes there. Be easier to get started tomorrow morning.”</p><p>The trains were almost empty, but very bright. The vivid interior of the car seemed obnoxious and excessive in comparison to the dim lighting of the past. Robin and Strike sat together, hands clasped, each lost in thought, and not talking, until they were safely inside Strike’s tiny attic flat in Denmark Street.</p><p>After they’d settled and Strike put on some water for tea, he turned to Robin. “Out with it.”</p><p>“What?” she asked.</p><p>“What did you want to talk to me about?” Strike asked. “I can tell you have something to say. Are you upset that I didn’t believe you in the beginning, because you have to admit -”</p><p>“It’s not that,” said Robin.</p><p>“Ah, but it’s something.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Go on then,” said Strike grimly, handing Robin her cup of tea. He sat across from her at the little table.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not having a crisis or anything. But do you remember the talk we had the night that you punched me in the face?”</p><p>“Accidentally punched you in the face, but yes.” </p><p>“And you said,” continued Robin, “that you were an ‘accident’ - that you shouldn’t be here.” </p><p>“I remember,” said Strike. He knew where she was going with this. He had been thinking similar things on their journey home.</p><p>“Well, does our experience this week change your perception of your existence?”</p><p>Did it? Their adventure with the Doctor had certainly changed his perception of a great many things. In fact, he felt that if he thought about it too long, or too deeply, his head might explode. Strike had been pondering, among other things, whether or not he could trust anything anymore. How was he to know whether or not the Doctor, or some other alien or future entity wasn’t already here, in his midst, attempting to alter his path in life. All those times he misplaced keys or had a feeling of déjà vu - could he take any of that at face value? What if some tosser went back in time and killed Robin’s great-great-great grandmother too soon? What would his life be like then? And how could humans just keep fucking things up? When they finally learned that time travel was possible, what had they done? Wasted the ability for power and greed.  </p><p>Strike realized that Robin was waiting patiently for an answer. He wanted to tell her all of this, but instead he just sighed. “Yes, I suppose it has changed how I feel about my existence.” </p><p>Robin smiled. “Good. It doesn’t matter how you were born. Lots of things can affect how peoples’ lives turn out. Some people are born into more fortunate circumstances than others, and some have more opportunities or more loving families. But you could go crazy thinking about how small and insignificant we all are. I think - the Doctor was trying to show us that even though the universe is large, and time is vast, if we can make a difference in our lives, in our circumstances, it’s not in vain. It all ties together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if anyone can solve the mystery of the universe, it’s you and I, Ellacott,” said Strike. “After all, we are the best private detectives in London. Or, at least, we will be.” He reached across the table for her hand, and drew it gently to his lips. “At any rate, I’m so grateful that I’m in this with you,” he said.</p><p>“The feeling… is mutual,” said Robin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Striketober is done! And I cannot believe that I actually finished it. Thank you to everyone who read and encouraged me along the way. This activity has given me some new purpose! I don't think I can embark on another month-long journey like this, but I do have some ideas for fic moving forward, and I credit Striketober for getting me in the habit. I love how this came about - I had no idea that I would end up with this in the beginning, certainly no plans for a cohesive story. And I still can't believe that it ... kind of... worked!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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